


BDL

by goddessoftheworld, plsnskanks (orphan_account)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Too Lazy, get fuked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 01:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessoftheworld/pseuds/goddessoftheworld, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/plsnskanks
Summary: Based of Goddessofthworld's secret camboy auhttps://goddessoftheworld.tumblr.com/tagged/secret%20camboy%20au





	BDL

He’s just kind of laying there, taking in the silence of everything. Taking in the high whine that silence makes when it is crushingly surrounding, reminding him of the moments of its lack.

He thinks about him. BDL. BigDickLeader. He snorts. That is the screen name of an asshole, a narcissist if he has ever heard of one. At least, that was his immediate assumption. He didn’t expect much originally. Some weirdo who was willing to pay for sex didn’t exactly engender any interest at a personal level, no matter what dollar sign amount he was willing to pay.

Money and pithy compliments could buy physical affection, but genuine affection from Tom was something a bitter past ensured would have to be hard fought and won. So no. He didn’t expect much.

He gets there and the guy is wearing a mask, which honestly, almost has Tom backing out the door at once. Sure being a little strip tease to a bunch of empty pseudonyms on the internet was one thing. But doing it in real time to someone. It felt a little too real. Like he was betting a bit too much of himself to do this and suddenly, he felt like that lump sum he’d come away proudly thinking he’d swindled out of the man before him… suddenly it lacked its triumph and he was left questioning who exactly had swindled who.

But rent money is rent money and even though the piling amount in the bank is satisfactory for quite a while, if the past has taught him anything, never underestimate how easily security can be ripped away from you.

He doesn’t really anticipate enjoying it. That’s the one thing above all that throws him. Because he’s thinking about the money, and what that will get him, and what STD’s he is potentially putting himself at risk for, so he’s thinking about himself in a corporeal sense, but not really an emotional one.

And the thing is he’s gentle and considerate and he swears he could at times in the whole affair catch him saying something or maybe the snippet of a chuckle. Or maybe its just his head playing tricks on him as it is wont to do. Tom cums and it catches both of them by surprise and then its over and Tom is struck by the oddity of it all. He’s staring into these calm slate grey eyes he’s never seen before in his life.

They’ve got the color of thunder clouds, bringing the promise of harsh wind and raging downpours and it strikes Tom that he’d like to see under the mask a bit. Consider his curiosity piqued. Eye contact breaks and he’s pulling on his clothes as BDL does likewise and it occurs to Tom how hilarious it is that he had sex in nothing but his mask. Seriously, its like those creeps who fuck with their crew socks on.

He can’t help the snort that makes its way out, ugly and loud and he’s wanting to cover his face in embarrassment as BDL looks over at him, eyebrows up but staring him down with a mix of condescension and amusement.

“What are you over there looking so smug about,” Tom says flinging a stray gray sock that certainly isn’t his into BDL’s face. “At least I have the gumption to show you my face, eh?”

BDL holds his hands up, open palmed, and shrugs. I got nothing for you, kid. That’s what the gesture tells him. Yeah? The feeling of vulnerability comes around again like a tetherball to the groin of his self esteem.

“What are you still here for? Is there some other trick I can turn for you tonight, my good sir?” pants around his ankles, Tom takes a mockingly deep bow. BDL merely pulls on the rest of his clothes and slings his bag over his shoulder and shuts the door. The night repeats. Because, devoid of the personal doubt inside Tom, BDL wants more.

They don’t talk, they just fuck. And later they talk online. Mostly sex. BDL doesn’t want to discuss more about his personal life. So Tom resolves to do the same. It’s just sex. But there’s nights where the door shuts and he leaves without a word and the blue light of early night seeps in and Tom is left alone in the dark with an empty hollow ache to his gut.

He realizes he wants more. And then he wants to slap himself in the face. So he does. Stupid. Smack. Stupid. Smack. Stupid. Smack. It almost hurts by the end of it because he’s hitting himself hard enough that maybe the physical reminder of pain will ward him off the promise of imminent emotional pain.  
BDL does not like him. He likes his body. He likes his company. But him? Its obviously not going anywhere anytime soon. So he lets himself get caught up in the hype   
and the excitement and the passion and his idea about more kind of drops away as he finds himself being momentarily satisfied by their current ongoing affair.

Really. Even his rampaging housefire of pessimism was momentarily doused enough to find himself swaying his hips to the song that had been playing during one of their fuck sessions. 

“Happy about something?” Tord’s voice sounds from behind him. It’s like a stake through the heart of his momentary peace and Tom’s turning on one heel to face him. And there he is. Eyes lidded, mouth hitched up in one corner and honestly. What. An. Asshole. Grade A narcissist if he’s ever seen one. Well. One aside from Matt. Seriously he walked in on the guy masturbating in front of a mirror once and-

Right.

Tord.

“What do you want?” Tom shoots back.

Tord raises his hands in mock exasperation, “What do I want, well a new car, a better paying job and oh! For you to move from in front of the refrigerator.”

Tom moves to lean on the other door. “Why are you even here anyways, Edd says you’re out most Saturday nights, your hot date stand you up?” Tom says looking at Tord with bland disinterest. Seriously the guy was lazing about for weeks on end, you could hardly pry him off the couch and then poof. Gone for a week straight then back with the most waspish attitude you could imagine if you asked him about his whereabouts.

Never skipped rent so its not like Tom could complain.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you? You’re the one who comes slinking in like a dog every so often at 2am,” Tord says as he grabs the milk out of the fridge and twists off the top. He gives it a sniff because this is not the kind of house where people are good at being attentive to expiration dates, squints at the little dotted numbers on the carton and shrugs.

Tom meanwhile was also currently smelling something rancid, which is his own imminent rotting corpse because he’d rather die then have Tord figure out he is a camgirl. Boy. Semantics.

Tord pours the milk into a bowl full and rifles through the drawer to resurface with a spoon. He digs it into the bowl and takes a bite. Mouth full of food he asks again, “So, what are you about every other Saturday or so?”

“Band practice,” Tom says, refusing to meet Tord’s eyes. He hates Tord’s eyes, they’re these scummy little grey pits that look like the skid mark on a nice clean sidewalk and have the same about of presence behind them. “You?”

Tord takes another bite, “Don’t think that one’s too convincing Tom, you never bring your bass with you or have it with you before you come back. Try again.” With that he’s turning his back and heading out and the feeling is all too familiar as Tom looks after him. He can hear, over the low thrum of the fridge, a high whine, the promise of silence and solitude.

His phone buzzes.

“Really liked seeing you tonight.”

Yeah. Yeah. He did. Right. The next time they fuck Tom is all over him, kissing him grabbing at him and the response he gets in kind is equally enthusiastic. He lays there getting his thoughts together for what feels like an hour but in reality is about two minutes. BDL isn’t the type to fuck and leave him on a high and he appreciates that. He grounds himself and looks over and nods.

He gets a nod back.

“You going to ever show me that face of yours, daddy?” He hits the last word hard, coming out as a whine.

BDL shrugs. Ah. Ever verbose.

“Mmm, and what if I figure it out?” Tom says playfully. BDL shrugs again, raises his hand, fingers pulled into a gun. He aims at Tom’s heart and fires.

“Oh? Just like that? Pretty cold-blooded Mr. Big Dick Leader.”

Something, ever so slight, ripples in his demeanor and Tom catches it and wishes he could name it so he could do it again. He has time. He’ll figure it out.  
He’s the one, at last, feeling smug as the back turns, shoulders maybe slightly more hunched than they usually are. And the door closes leaving Tom alone in the room by himself, too many thoughts, too many questions to notice the solitude pressing in around him. It tries to envelope him but he stands, shrugs at some internalized thought, and walks out.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh I never finished a lot of promises and also am indecisive but now that i feel good enough to decide I'm deciding to follow through on a lot of promises i made but never filled. I hate being the author who doesnt finish works. I'm gonna finish my works, update the masterlist and uhh post a final faq to handle residual questions I dont want to stick around to answer.


End file.
